


when i look at you (i shine too)

by kangtv (galacticnik)



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Sports, Hwang Minhyun (mentioned), I don't know what to tag this as, M/M, guanlin became cool and everyone is low key stressed, guanlin has a lot of feelings, is seonho ever not obsessed with minhyun, light angst? mostly fluff?, seonho doesn't know how to handle his feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-09 00:24:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11657784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galacticnik/pseuds/kangtv
Summary: Guanlin returns to Korea after a year and a half long absence to find that some things have changed.#1 on that list is his relationship with his best friend, Seonho.





	when i look at you (i shine too)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sigma (riecior)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/riecior/gifts).



> for haru, who dragged me into hell ❤︎
> 
> title taken from the star of stars (유성) by snuper. self-edited, so please forgive any spelling/grammar/punctuation/formatting flubs!

Seonho won’t stop staring at him.

Guanlin is used to the attention. His trophy case back home officially has three medals on display—bronze, silver, and gold—in order of increasing importance, and he’s done enough magazine covers and interviews since his recent big win in Taipei to last a lifetime. Coupled with the endorsements continuing to pour in, he knows his days of complete anonymity are gone in Taiwan. Here, it’s different: only those who follow competitive archery recognize his face, but that’s still too many for Guanlin to be comfortable with.

However, public attention is different than Seonho’s heated gaze. He can block strangers out, but Seonho is a lot harder to ignore. Guanlin finds his interest a mixture of flattering and frightening. Seonho only _ever_ looks that seriously at two things: food, and his longtime love Hwang Minhyun. Seeing as he is neither of those things, he can’t figure out why it’s directed at him.

Or maybe it’s been so long that he doesn’t know how to read Seonho’s expressions anymore. He could be gassy or constipated or sleepy. Guanlin could be reading too much into it; maybe it’s not for him at all. Coming back to Korea for the first time in a year and a half means that a lot of things doesn't really make sense anymore, Seonho included. A lot of things aren’t the way he left them. Sorta sad to think about. Guanlin wasn’t expecting nothing to change at all, but, _well_.

It’s the middle of his ‘welcome back’ party and he can’t fit himself back into the hole he left behind when he moved to Taiwan; its shape has morphed into something else. It makes him uneasy, slotting limbs into pockets where they don’t belong. He sits in the middle of the room, out of place and tired, nodding along as others chatter and sing while nursing a glass of something fizzy.

Seonho is still looking at him when Guanlin finishes drinking his soda and crushes the plastic cup in his hand. “Uh, sorry. Did you want some or….?” he says lamely. There are plenty of other drinks littered around the table in their karaoke room, but Seonho hasn’t touched any of them or any of the snacks lying ripped open. The fact that there _are_ any snacks left in the first place is plain weird.

“Nah,” Seonho says, sinking back into his seat. His eyes are too bright. Daehwi finishes crooning out the last notes of a ballad and flops down beside him, wiping a fake tear from his eye. Ignoring Daehwi’s demand for applause, Seonho looks down at his hands and adds, “Don’t worry about me.”

 _I always worry about you_ , Guanlin wants to respond, but he has no reason to, not really. Better yet: “I worry about everything,” he says, giving Seonho a small, tentative smile.

“Seonho’s right,” Jihoon butts in, handing the mic off to Jinyoung for the next song. “Don’t worry about that asshole and enjoy yourself.” He grabs Guanlin’s hand and tugs him up to his feet. “If you’re going to sit there all night with that dumb look on your face, I’ll sue.”

“Dude, I’m tired.” Feels like all he’s been doing recently is flying. But Guanlin doesn’t resist as Jihoon drapes a feather boa around his neck and dumps a curly wig on his head. “What is Jinyoung even singing?”

Jihoon clutches his chest and staggers back. “BTS’ new song—where the hell have you _been_ the last six months?”

“Uh.” _In literal Hell_. When he returned to Taiwan to prepare for his international archery debut, his coach put him on a strict training regimen for the months leading up to the World Cup. _Live, eat, breathe archery. Your bow should be an extension of yourself._ Guanlin can’t complain; it paid off in the end and he has the medals to prove it. Still, some days he’d drag himself home with numb hands, blood blisters on his arm, fingers stiff and curled into weird positions. He would throw himself down on his bed, crying because it _hurt_ and because he was ashamed of his lack of endurance.

Finding time to breathe was difficult. Keeping up with things like music releases was impossible.

The silence grows long enough to be uncomfortable. Jihoon clears his throat. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it’s okay,” Guanlin says quickly. “I guess I’m behind on some stuff.” He put his life on pause for these competitions, and his parents and coach are going to want him to do it again in a couple of weeks for the Berlin leg of the Cup. Until then, he wants a normal life, just for a little while. Take a break and do dumb stuff like this, hang out with his friends and not dream about sinking arrows into targets. “You guys will have to catch me up.”

“We got you,” Daehwi says, giving him a double thumbs up. “It’ll be like a crash course in everything cool.”

“Then you’re not allowed to teach it,” Jihoon snaps. Partway through shoving an entire of shrimp crackers in his mouth, Daehwi chokes in indignation. Sighing, Jihoon goes over to rescue his friend from a lame death.

Guanlin sneaks a glance at Seonho as Jinyoung finishes the BTS song. He’s laughing at Daehwi scrambling for water, his whole face transforming into a beacon of pure sunshine. Unconsciously, Guanlin finds himself smiling too as Jinyoung hands him the mic. Seonho has a way of drawing people into his orbit; he ended up caught in this odd group of friends thanks to that pull. But as much as Guanlin likes everyone, it’s Seonho he gravitates towards in the beginning and at the end of everything.

It’s Seonho he came back to Korea to see.

And it’s Seonho who, despite all the staring, won’t really talk to or play around with him. Guanlin isn’t one to give up without trying. “Hey, you want to sing that Troublemaker song we did before I left?” he asks Seonho, a hopeful lilt to his voice. Jihoon cackles and Jinyoung buries his head in his hands at the memory of their disastrous ‘performance’ at Guanlin’s going away party. Daewhi, on the other hand, gets his camera ready to record.

But Seonho doesn’t laugh, only stares at Guanlin with an expression of rapidly spreading sheer panic on his face. “What? No way. I—” Guanlin’s chest constricts as Seonho turns red and sinks further into his seat like he’s hoping it will swallow him whole. “I don’t remember it,” he amends.

Uncomfortable silence number two settles in until Daehwi pockets his phone and says, “ _I_ remember it; let’s do this, Guanlin.”

Guanlin swallows. “You… sure you don’t?” He still only has eyes for Seonho in spite of the mounting nausea in his stomach. Daehwi mutters something about how ‘no one appreciates him’ and Guanlin pats his shoulder consolingly. But the answer he’s waiting for from Seonho never comes. No answer comes, and if he was unsure about whether or not Seonho was mad at him before, he isn’t anymore.

He doesn’t want to be disappointed, not after everyone’s gone through so much effort to have this party for him. Forcing a smile, Guanlin turns to Daehwi and shakes his head. “Nah, it’s fine. I got something better in mind.” He punches in a title and cringes a little at the loud whoops filling the air as Psy’s _Champion_ comes on.

Jihoon nearly elbows him in the gut trying to snatch the mic from him. “Step aside homos, this is my song,” he growls out. Jinyoung grabs one of the maracas and throws an arm around Jihoon’s neck as they yell along with the lyrics. Daehwi meets Guanlin’s eyes, shrugs, and takes a shot of soda before joining the other two for the chorus. Guanlin grins at the sight of his rowdy friends and shuffles from place to place while cheering them on.

Guanlin glances back at Seonho sitting there with a lopsided headband on his head, bopping to the music with a complicated expression on his face. He wonders if maybe Seonho wishes he didn’t have to be here. He wonders if Seonho wishes Guanlin had never come back at all.

 

—

 

He and Seonho head back the same way after the party.

The night air is pleasantly cool against Guanlin’s warm cheeks. Their karaoke room was stuffy and hot and he tired himself out with all the singing and jumping around. He’s still pretty exhausted from the flight this morning too and he really can’t wait to go home and sleep.

But before that. He kicks at a pebble on the ground and it bounces forward with a clatter. Seonho is three steps behind him, headphones in his ears, but the distance between them feels a lot bigger. Guanlin is standing at an expanse, Seonho on the other side, and he doesn’t know how to get across to him. And it tears him apart because this is not what he _wanted_. Dragging a hand down his face, he finally asks, “Are you mad at me?”

Footsteps stop behind him. Guanlin halts as well and turns around. Seonho’s headphones hang around his neck, mouth frozen in a grimace he quickly transforms into a grin. Waving a hand in the air nonchalantly, he says, “No way. What do I have to be mad about?”

And, _okay_ , Guanlin has been gone for a while but he still recognizes Seonho’s squeaky ‘I’m lying and hoping you won’t notice because you’re distracted by my cute smile’ voice. Unfortunately for him, Guanlin is really good at blocking out distractions and focusing on his target. “Then why haven’t you talked to me since I landed?” he pushes, and he’s glad it comes out as even and controlled when all Guanlin wants to do is shake an answer out of his friend.

“We talked,” Seonho says dismissively. The soles of his sneakers scuff against the gravel pavement as he passes by Guanlin, popping his headphones back in his ears. “I don’t know what to tell you, man. Maybe I just don’t have that much to say.”

His hand comes down on Seonho’s shoulder, holding him in place. They used to be same height, but Guanlin is taller now, enough that Seonho has to tilt his head to meet his eyes. “You know what I mean.” Guanlin hates the way his voice trembles. He’s afraid of being right, but afraid of not knowing what the problem is either. “You barely said anything at the restaurant and didn’t even sing at the karaoke place.” Seonho is the life of the party no matter where he goes and he barely had a pulse this evening. “I’m really worried I did something to make you angry because I can’t even _fix_ it if I don’t know what it is.”

Seonho looks like he’s been slapped. “It’s not…” He breaks off, pulling away from Guanlin’s touch. “Can we talk about it tomorrow?” _Or never_ ; he hears the silent implication. “I’m tired and I don’t wanna get into it right now.”

This reminds him of the night before he left: Guanlin and Seonho facing each other on a darkened street, Guanlin with his heart in his hands, begging Seonho not to break it. Remembers Seonho’s distraught expression and wonders if it’s mirrored on his face.

A sudden sinking feeling forms in his stomach. “Is this about… what happened before I left?” he ventures. Seonho stiffens in surprise. Guanlin’s hands curl into fists as claws hook into his heart. “Dude, I said forget about it, didn’t I? I was just scared about leaving—it didn’t mean anything.” One skill he’s gained from giving interviews when he’s dead tired and unhappy is that he can lie through his teeth. Guanlin gives Seonho his best press smile and says, “I’m serious. It was stupid. If that’s what you were acting weird about—”

“Yeah, it _was_ stupid,” Seonho says swiftly. His shoulders hunch forward as he looks away, blinking rapidly. “I didn’t think about it that much.”

Guanlin’s smile falters.

“You wanna know why I’m acting weird?” He’s never heard Seonho sound so agitated, somewhere between angry and upset. “It’s because I don’t know how to be your friend anymore.”

Guanlin’s smile disappears entirely. “Seonho, what—”

They’re outside Seonho’s place; the streetlight flickers sadly, like it knows what’s going on. Guanlin tries to think of something to say, anything, but his mind isn’t working and his mouth is dry and he really, really wants this to be a bad dream _. I wanted to see you_ , he should say. _Please don’t say this._

Seonho takes a step back. “I gotta go home. I have practice tomorrow.” He hesitates, as if he’s about to say something else, then mutters, “Sorry.” It sounds plaintive and Guanlin wants to tell him not to apologize, just talk to him. Instead, he watches Seonho run inside with his feet glued to the pavement.

The door slams shut in his face. Numb, he turns around and walks home, Seonho’s words ringing in his ears. _I don’t know how to be your friend anymore._ And loop, repeat, play again. Loop, repeat, play again. He can’t get away from it even when he covers his ears.

He never should have opened his mouth. He never should have left.

 

—

 

His TV is playing a recording of the medal ceremony in Taipei when Guanlin comes back. He collapses on the couch, the announcers’ voices mixing with Seonho’s as they ring in his ears.

His parents are too proud of that day and Guanlin’s current world rank. He doesn't have the heart to tell him that the only reason he competed so hard was because they promised him he could go back to Korea for a visit if he placed high. The main driving force for his efforts was the thought of returning and meeting all his friends and tying the loose ends he’d left behind together. It was never about being number one.

Guanlin stares at the boy with the gold medal around his neck and a triumphant smile on his face and thinks, _I hate you._

What does it matter anymore?

He closes his eyes and curls up right there, blindly reaching for the throw blanket folded next to him. Seonho’s tight expression swims in his mind as he falls asleep.

 

—

 

Guanlin has never made friends easily. His first (and only, for a while) friend was also an archer who grew bitter as Guanlin improved faster than he and left him behind in the dust. His second friend was a former coach's daughter who used him as a personal dog for two years because she knew Guanlin was a pushover. His third was Yoo Seonho.

They met after Guanlin came to Korea to train. His coach said the experience would be good for him; Korea had the number one ranked recurve archers in the world for a reason. Guanlin spent his entire life training to be the best, so why wouldn’t he learn from people who were at the top of their game? But expectations and reality were different. Being here on his own was tough—he spent most of his time homesick and _miserable_.

Seonho found Guanlin crying outside the training centre on his way home from piano lessons one day and slid down beside him without a word. Guanlin kept waiting for the jab to come, an insult in Korean he couldn’t understand, but Seonho just waited there until he stopped. When Guanlin looked up with red-rimmed eyes, Seonho stuck a hand out to him and said, “Hi, I’m Yoo Seonho. Do you like tteokbokki?”

(Guanlin said yes even though he had no idea what it was).

Two hours later, he was watching Seonho finish off their fifth order of tteokbokki while chattering on about his life. Guanlin had learned that Seonho was in his final year of middle school, played piano and loved basketball, was a bottomless pit of food, and could touch the tip of his nose with his tongue. The last part was more of a demonstration than a fun fact when Guanlin pointed out he had sauce there.

In turn, Seonho forced Guanlin to talk about himself. He didn’t normally say much (not the least because of his limited Korean) but found himself opening up to Seonho. Maybe it was because he hadn’t talked to anyone in a while, or Seonho’s face was just easy to trust. Either way, he mentioned that he was from Taiwan, also in his final year of middle school, came here to train in archery, and that he also loved basketball because he was tall.

He still remembered Seonho looking at him over an empty bowl with sauce smeared over his mouth. “Nice,” he said, grinning. “We’re going to be great friends.”

It still surprises Guanlin that they were. He didn’t come to Korea expecting to find a social life here, but Seonho introduced him to more people, forced him away from training when Guanlin was getting in too deep. Balance meant little too him outside of his bow and archery as a whole, but Seonho taught him there was more out there.

He liked Jihoon, Jinyoung, and Daehwi, but Seonho remained Guanlin’s best friend by far. Confident, friendly, and unabashedly himself, Seonho was like an icon. Sometimes, Guanlin couldn’t believe they were actually friends; what did Seonho see in him?

It was inevitable when Guanlin’s feelings began to blur between just friendly admiration and something else, something more. He didn’t want to fall in love, to be honest. Guanlin had crushed on people before only to have it crash and burn. More than that, he knew Seonho had been in love with the same guy since he was in like, elementary and he knew it was hopeless to even think about Seonho in that way. But Guanlin was used to torturing himself. The more he fought it, the more he realized that he wanted to hold Seonho’s hand and have him look only at him and—

But he buried it, said nothing until the night of his going away party. Shoulders bumped against each other as they walked home together, and Guanlin could only think about how this might be the last time he ever saw Seonho. His parents never liked Korea; they were already making plans to live and have Guanlin train in Taipei full time. He didn’t want to leave without telling Seonho how he really felt, but he didn’t want it to seem like he was running away after that either.

Guanlin still remembers the fireflies hovering near Seonho’s head, light flickering softly in the dark. He’d thought, now or never, seized with a sudden fear that this was it. This was his only shot to tell Seonho how he felt. Acting on pure impulse, he squared his shoulders as they stopped near his place and said, “I like you.”

Seonho laughed at first, figured he was probably joking. “Guanlin, the flames of your desire for me are burning too strong this evening,” he’d joked, wagging his eyebrows. He laced his hands behind his head and walked backwards as Guanlin fretted about Seonho tripping and hurting himself.

“Dude, I—”

“Unfortunately, I’m saving my body for Minhyun hyung but you can, of course, look to satisfy your lust.”

“Seonho.”

“On the understanding that this is a bromo only zone as in ‘bro, no homo’ with you—”

“I’m trying to tell you I’m in love with you!” Guanlin didn’t yell. Didn’t get angry at people. Definitely didn’t yell at Seonho, chest heaving, his face on fire, months of pent up emotions spilling from his mouth. “I just.” He swallowed. “I need you to know now in case I never get the chance to come back to tell you.”

Seonho was standing very, very still, his hands slipping back down to his sides. “What do you mean? You’re not… you’re not coming back?” He sounded small, almost sad, and Guanlin looked away. He could have lied, but Seonho would figure it out eventually. Guanlin and deception were not a good match.

“Yeah, I might not. My parents don’t want me to.” Korea had been a good training experience but also a distraction. He thought they were disappointed he didn’t get more out of it than anything, but Guanlin would argue he got the most important thing out of it, actually: a life. All thanks to Seonho; he owed him everything. “I—look, I don’t need an answer, but if this is the end, I don’t want to pretend I didn’t feel anything more for you.”

Genuine distress crossed Seonho’s face. “You can’t—” Taking a step back, he tripped over a discarded bottle and went down. Guanlin lunged forward and grabbed Seonho’s arm, yanking him back to his feet. Only, he misjudged his strength and yanked too far and accidentally smashed his face—his _lips_ —against Seonho’s. There was a moment where Guanlin couldn’t breathe, mind fixated on the taste of spicy chicken and chocolate on Seonho’s lips, feeling them move ever so slightly—

Then he’d jerked back, hearing his mom yell his name in the distance. Seonho blinked at him, dazed, but Guanlin’s mouth felt dry. He wasn’t prepared for the rejection or for Seonho to apologize or to hear that he was being silly. “I have to go,” he blurted out, not waiting for Seonho to say something. “I have an early flight tomorrow. I—I’m sorry.”

He ran then, legs pumping as fast as they could go. Looked back once to see Seonho still standing there staring after him, touching his lips. Guanlin’s face burned with shame and embarrassment and a fierce sort of sadness when he thought about how this was their first and last kiss and it was a _mistake_. And he had no right to be happy or feel fluttery over it, but behind the layers of mortification, his feelings for Seonho glowed like the softly flickering fireflies.

(They fell apart after that somehow, but Guanlin understands now that whatever happened was his fault).

 

—

 

“So. You and Seonho.”

Jihoon takes an extra long sip of his drink, slurping loudly. Guanlin squirms and picks at his noodles.

They’re at a food court at the mall because Jihoon wanted to buy shoes and Guanlin, like an idiot, promised to buy him a gift with his medal earnings (he’s a good guy). Jinyoung is lounging beside him, flipping through a magazine he found with Guanlin’s smiling face on the cover, though he seriously doubts Jinyoung can actually read a word of it. Daehwi and Seonho are at piano lessons for their upcoming recital and Guanlin can’t decide whether he’s relieved or disappointed that they couldn’t join the rest of them.

“Yeah?” Guanlin says, trying to sound nonchalant. He fails so badly that Jinyoung closes the magazine, laughing.

Jihoon’s eyes glint. “What was all that about?” It was probably too much to hope for that no one else noticed the tension between them. Jinyoung leans forward and studies Guanlin’s face, who suddenly finds his noodles the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Nothing. We—” What is he supposed to say? How is he supposed to explain it? “Nothing,” Guanlin repeats, shovelling noodles into his mouth.

“This is painful,” Jihoon mutters. “You guys need to have a conversation and then kiss and make-up pronto or your vacation from being a Hanzo rip-off is going to suck.”

“Hey,” he protests. Compare him to anyone but Hanzo. But also, the conversation sounds nice (ignoring the fact that Guanlin’s already tried), yet the kissing and making up less so because it makes his heart beat fast. A year and a half and he should be over his crush, but it’s annoying persistent, sticking to the edges of his heart. “It’s… complicated. Look, I don’t really blame him for whatever is going on. It’s my fault and I don’t want to force Seonho to act like everything is okay if it’s not.”

“Well,” Jinyoung says, crossing his arms over his chest. “At least you get that confessing to a guy the night before you leave for who knows how long is a stupid thing to do.”

Guanlin drops his chopsticks. “ _What._ ”

“Seonho told us,” Jinyoung grins, and Guanlin thinks he liked it better when Jinyoung was all doom and gloom. “We know about your confession and the kiss.”

“I’m insulted _you_ didn’t tell us,” Jihoon adds. “As your friends and Seonho’s friends, we kind of need to know these things.”

“ _Guys_.” He wants to die. He hasn’t felt this embarrassed since he missed the target three times in a row during one of the youth championships in Taipei and had to see that played again and again and again on the news for weeks. “When did he tell you? Why?”

Jihoon and Jinyoung exchange a look. “The day after it happened,” Jihoon says, shaking his cup. “Because, you know, he was confused and wanted some advice unlike _someone_ else who didn’t talk to us for like a whole year after that—”

“I was busy.” His voice sounds weak to his own ears.

“It doesn’t take that long to message someone…” Jinyoung’s face darkens for a second, but he’s gently admonishing rather than truly angry. “But we get it.” Guanlin still apologizes quietly; he feels bad. It’s true he didn’t make that much of an effort. But Jihoon and Jinyoung and Daehwi reminded him of Seonho and Seonho reminded him of… things he couldn’t afford to think about.

“So did you tell him how to reject me nicely?” Guanlin hates that he sounds so bitter. He’s still bracing for it and figures it’ll come eventually.

Jihoon and Jinyoung exchange another look. “Did you guys not talk about this at all?” Jihoon says finally.

“No?”

“Guanlin… I hate to be that guy, but you really should.” Jinyoung sighs and covers his face, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Because I’m pretty sure Seonho likes you.”

“ _WHAT_.” This time he’s loud enough that people stop and stare. One shopper squints at his face for a second too long and Guanlin panics. He grabs the magazine and holds it up in front of him, which doesn’t actually help since his face is on the cover of that too. His friends are playing around with him, right? There’s no conceivable way Seonho could actually like him back—

Jinyoung winces. “Maybe we shouldn’t have told him that. Wasn’t Seonho going to…”

“Yeah, but Seonho wimped out,” Jihoon says, slamming a hand down on the table. “Did you see Guanlin’s face this morning? That’s not the face of a guy with a boyfriend.”

His head throbs. “Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” He looks from Jinyoung to Jihoon in desperation until the former finally relents and scooches his chair closer to the table. Jihoon chucks his drink in the trash and follows.

Jihoon clears his throat. “Okay, so. Seonho likes you.”

“We think,” Jiyoung clarifies.

“We _know_.” Jihoon glares at him. “He literally hasn’t shut up about you since you left.” He claps his hands together and does a bad impression of Seonho. “ _I wonder what Guanlin’s up to. Man, this chicken doesn’t taste the same if Guanlin isn’t here. Hey, did you see Guanlin on tv yesterday? I wish Guanlin would shove his h—_ ”

“We watched your competition together,” Jinyoung adds. “Seonho was nervous for you the whole time. Almost had a heart attack when they announced your medal. He talked about it—and you coming back—for weeks. And he said he was going to tell you something important when you did get here.”

None of this makes sense. Guanlin grabs his head in frustration. “Then why didn’t he?”

“Because you’re….” Jinyoung frowns. “Guanlin, you’re kind of a big deal now. You got taller, hotter, and you’re ranked like number twenty two in the world for archery right now? You’re not even an ordinary person anymore.”

“If you and Seonho weren’t… whatever you are, I would climb you like a tree, dude.” Jihoon says flatly. Jinyoung almost topples off his chair in shock, sputtering.

Guanlin wants to crawl into a hole somewhere and possibly die. “But I’m just— _Seonho’s_ the cool one, I can barely talk without—”

Jihoon and Jinyoung exchange another look. “For a gold medalist, you’re an idiot,” Jihoon says finally.

“Talk to him again.” Jinyoung’s expression softens. He reaches forward and pats Guanlin’s arm. “We’re all rooting for you and Seonho.”

Guanlin buries his face in his hands. He didn’t even know there was a ‘him and Seonho.’ “Thanks?”

“Idiot,” Jihoon repeats affectionately, and Jinyoung laughs.

 

—

 

He takes a few days to come to term with the surprising revelation, but it still doesn’t sound real to him. _Seonho likes you._ Sounds like a joke, a mean prank you’d play on someone to see them make a fool of themselves. But Guanlin trusts his friends… their judgement less so. Maybe they read the signs wrong. Maybe Seonho is just lonely and missing a friend.

It’s too much to think about. Guanlin can’t imagine it in his wildest dreams; Seonho liking Minhyun is so deeply ingrained in his psyche that to consider anything else is… weird. Nigh impossible. Even if he did accept it as the truth somehow, Guanlin’s nervous as well. He’s uncomfortable, wondering whether he should say something, or would Seonho be upset at the others for spilling the beans?

Berlin is looming on the horizon and Guanlin doesn’t want to leave things unfinished a second time, but working up the nerve to approach Seonho about it is difficult—to say the least. He’s afraid of ruining things further. What if he’s just setting himself up to be hurt again?

And so Guanlin resorts to what he always does: drowns himself in his training. He hasn’t been to the training centre in Korea for so long, but the place is a third home for him. Working quickly and methodically, he sets up the target and unpacks his equipment. He can lose himself in the motions of fitting the arrow to the string, lifting and drawing the bow before taking his aim and releasing the shaft. It sinks into the middle of the target with a satisfying sound and he grins. _Bullseye._ He nocks a second arrow and draws when—

“I forgot how cool you looked while doing your thing,” a voice says.

Guanlin’s shot goes wild and hits the back wall. “ _Dude._ ” He’d recognize Seonho’s voice anywhere. Lowering his bow, Guanlin turns to see Seonho by the entrance with a sheepish smile on his face. His heart leaps into his throat. Of all places, he wouldn’t have expected to see Seonho here. They’ve met outside the training centre plenty of times, but Seonho’s rarely come inside. Did one of the others tell him where to find Guanlin?

“You never really let me see any of your archery stuff before,” Seonho continues, dropping into a seat in the front row of the bleachers on the side of the room. “I had to see you shoot on tv for the first time like regular plebs.”

Guilt floods Guanlin; he looks away. “... You never invited me to your piano performances,” he says, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

Seonho squirms in his seat. “Because I didn’t want you to see me mess up.”

It’s funny that Guanlin had the same thing in mind. “Me too.”

“Hey, you did pretty good. My boy got a _gold medal_.” There’s no mistaking the pride in Seonho’s voice, and a warm feeling spreads through his chest. The thought that Seonho was cheering for him—was happy for him—makes Guanlin shy. “How shiny is it?”

Guanlin laughs. “Pretty shiny.”

Seonho watches as Guanlin retrieves his errant arrow and puts the rest of his equipment away, shedding his arm bracer and stripping the finger guards from his hands. With everything packed into a case, he sits down beside Seonho and rests his elbows on his knees. The quiet that descends between them is comfortable and not awkward for once. Guanlin doesn’t want to break it and waits instead, staying at the ground but occasionally sneaking a glance at Seonho who looks contemplative.

“I’m sorry about before,” Seonho says finally. " About the way I was acting and all.  I felt like you were someone completely different now and I didn't know how to talk to you." He rubs his nose and looks away. "I… you know, you’re kinda unapproachable. Like, you’re tall and handsome and a gold medal winner and I _know_ you’re just lame string bean Guanlin who talks with his mouth full and carries moist towelettes in his pockets, but—”

“Hey,” Guanlin says. “I’m sorry.” He spent so much time worried about things here changing, but Guanlin’s changed too and failed to take that under account. Weird to think he’s not the only one who feels awkward about it, unsure of where he fits now. Weirder to think anything about him could’ve made the confident Seonho feel uneasy.

Seonho sucks in a deep breath. “I wanted to see you again,” he admits quietly.

“Me too,” Guanlin says. He shifts. Their hands are almost touching.

“I meant what I said the other day though,” Seonho continues, and Guanlin tilts his head in confusion. “I don’t know how to be your friend anymore because I don’t want to be your friend. I want to be your… special person.”

It takes him several minutes to translate the words in his mind. “Boyfriend?” Guanlin tries, and immediately feels foolish when Seonho stiffens next to him, hands curling away from him. “Or s—”

“Yeah,” Seonho says. His voice is barely above a whisper, but grows stronger when he meets Guanlin’s eyes, a determined set to his mouth. “Yeah. This is a year late, but I like you too.”

Guanlin’s face hurts with the force of keeping his smile contained. He’s not good at hiding his emotions; it rips out of him anyway, taking over his face. Seonho likes him. _Seonho likes him back_. The same irregular heartbeat fills his ears as when Jihoon and Jinyoung told him so, but this is real. Concrete. Hearing it come out of Seonho’s own mouth, most of his doubts are gone. Seonho likes him. But some small part of his mind brings up a ghost. “Minhyun hyung—”

“Is cool, but when I thought of never seeing you again I felt like I was gonna die,” Seonho interrupts. His cheeks are dusted pink. “I knew I had to tell you if you ever came back but when you did you were so cool and nonchalant that I thought maybe you didn’t like me anymore.” He says it all in one breath as if he doesn’t want to (as if he’s embarrassed), but he _wants_ to do it too.

The thought of him not liking Seonho is so ridiculous that Guanlin laughs out loud. His shoulders relax. “Did you watch my acceptance speech?” he asks. Their knees are pressed against each other. Guanlin takes Seonho’s hands in his own, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles. Seonho lowers his head and mumbles something about Guanlin being a sap, but he doesn’t pull away.

“Yeah?”

Guanlin repeats the words he said that day in front of the cameras, exhausted but proud with a sunny smile on his face. Seonho looks confused until Guanlin translates it into Korean. “ _My main source of motivation and strength is my best friend Yoo Seonho, who I love and cherish very much. I can’t wait to go back to Korea to see him again and let him know how much he’s helped me.”_ He sucks in a breath. He’d planned to say all of this before and chickened out at Seonho’s chilly reception, but it feels right now, like he shouldn’t have waited this long. “I never stopped thinking about you and I never stopped liking you.”

Seonho’s eyes are wide. “You mean it?”

Guanlin leans forward and presses his forehead to Seonho’s, exhaling softly. “Yeah, I really do.”

And it feels like home, like where he _belongs_. Sitting here with Seonho, Guanlin feels at peace, like everything he's been working towards makes sense. He doesn't want anything more than this, really, just to care about someone and know they care about him too. It's not going to be as easy as that, but for now, though, he closes his eyes and thinks, _thank you thank you thank you_. Because Seonho's heart is the best prize he could've ever received. 

 

—

 

His friends come to drop him off at the airport. Guanlin used to think it would be easier to just leave on his own, but seeing all of them lined up to say goodbye makes his heart swell with happiness. He hugs Daehwi first, then Jinyoung, then almost lifts Jihoon off the ground.

Seonho is the last to say goodbye and Guanlin holds him tighter than the others. He doesn’t want to let go, but this time isn’t like before. This time, he’ll hold onto Seonho with everything he’s got. No matter how hard it is or how long it takes, he’ll come back to Seonho.

They stand there until Daehwi coughs and Seonho finally pulls away, grinning. “You better come back soon,” he says, blinking rapidly. “Or I’ll throw myself into Minhyun hyung’s arms for comfort.”

Guanlin sputters. “Hey,” he says seriously, putting both hands on Seonho’s shoulders and staring right at him. “Look only at me.” His voice is low, charged, and Seonho seems shaken for a moment.

Jinyoung ruins the atmosphere with his loud clapping. “Guanlin is jealous, who knew?” Daehwi stage whispers, and Guanlin drops his hands in embarrassment. Who knew? He didn’t.

But Seonho dimples and wraps his hand around Guanlin’s. “Yeah, I got it,” he says, squeezing lightly. “Only you.”

**Author's Note:**

>  _sweats_ i wrote most of this on my way home from a concert (flights are long and boring) so i'm not sure what i feel about it but! my first fic for a ship that's not ongniel and it ends up unnecessarily long, what does this say about me. to be fair, the byeongaris are my second love so it was bound to happen sometime soon.
> 
> cheers!


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